Erinyes
by MidnightHeir
Summary: Part of the Dark Side of the Moon series. 8 years it has taken the authorities to build up a case against the P.Dragons. And now they are ready ... but 8 years ago the Foot didn't exists. And Saki isn't one to let something like the law stop him is he?
1. Chapter 1

**ERINYES**

**Disclaimer - **How many variations can a girl do on a theme? No, I don't own them, no I don't expect to. Am I going to use them? Hell yea ... the mileage you can get out of these babies is phenomenal! But, to clarify ... the turtles, Saki, Hun and almost everyone else belong to Mirage. But the crazy Irishman, the nervous FBI guy, and the attorney type - they're mine!

_**x-x-x-x**_

**Premise** The feds have waited almost eight years for this moment, the chance to freeze the assets of over three quarters of the Purple Dragon's 'front' companies. With the case prepared all that is left to do is get their key material witness Patrick Kilmour to the stand in one piece. Of course, when this investigation began the Dragon's hadn't met, let alone been absorbed into the Foot, and it's not in the Shredder's nature to simply let that much money slip away.

With their key witness now back in NY state, will he even make it to the stand. All of Shredder's considerable resources think not.

And incase that doesn't make it perfectly clear ... they're gonna be_ bodies_ in this baby ... at least _two_ of which will be TMNT originals.

_**x-x-x-x**_

_Days until trial – **7  
**__Current Status of Witness – **Alive  
**__Location – Chicago_

In high school Patrick Kilmour had been referred to as the 'Brute', his shoulders having supported the weight of many rugby players in his youth back in Ireland. Now his shoulders were rounded with the brunt of old age, the once powerful muscles more relaxed and intimidating by appearance and little else. When standing straight up the man could still reach an imposing height of six foot, four inches, his tanned wizened skin having seen better days in his youth, was now marred with the scars that came with plastic surgery for skin grafts. Burns could be pesky like that. It seemed odd that despite his impressive build he had wispy white hair neatly combed over a set of friendly, deeply set, blue-green eyes. His nose prominent in that it had a small ridge just below the eye line, a throwback to his days when he played sport.

And despite it all the man of 55 years was nervous. His large hands pressed down upon the cane he had nicknamed 'Seamus', his right foot tapping repeatedly off the thinly carpeted floor of this third storey apartment. It was a sign of nerves that he usually hid incredibly well. The silver moustache tickled the top of his lip as he exhaled loudly, the action garnering the attention of the others in the room.

"Mr Kilmour?" it was a stereotype that Hollywood had mastered. That of the 'special agent'. The man, along with his compatriots was dressed in black polyester trousers, polished black shoes and a white shirt complete with tie. All four men also wore sunglasses, though why Patrick could not ascertain. They were inside a small apartment in the upper east side of Chicago, with the thick curtains drawn to block out the sunlight. In Patrick's mind it added to the sense of foreboding that came with the knowledge of what was to come.

"Aye Lad?" the man asked, his thick Irish lilt still present despite the fact he had spent almost forty years in the mighty USA.

"We'll be leaving soon." Chas informed him, he was the youngest on the team and the only whose own nerves slid through his professional armour. It was well known among the Witness Protection Program personnel that this man was a 'widow-maker'.

"I know Lad." Letting Seamus lie against his inner leg, Patrick peeled back the sleeve of his thick dinner jacket; the custom designed Templar Vest that he had been wearing for the past eight years biting into his sensitive skin. **_Seven pm. _**The armoured car that would be driving him to the airport was due at 7.30 and then after that he was getting onto a private jet to take him back to the home he had made for himself in New York. Or rather the home he had had there in his youth, when he had had a family, and been allowed the luxury that others referred to as a life. Flexing his large arms out before his torso Patrick cracked each one of his knuckles one joint at a time.

"Nervous sir?" It was Chas again, his own fingers picking at the hem of his over coat. When he had taken this job it had been in order to further his career, and at the time it had seemed like a good idea. On the paper he had signed he had been assured he was merely babysitting an old man on his way to New York to take part in a trial. The nuance was in the detail, and having been introduced to his charge he had cursed audibly.

_The air had been sweet in the office that day, the large man sitting in the chair as innocuous as any other he had seen._

"_Patrick Kilmour, I present to you Charles McKay." It had been that simple to sign his fate, and the man had turned around with a sad smile to offer him his hand to shake. He hadn't even been offended by the string of curses that had spewed forth. No, Patrick Kilmour was well aware of his 'magic touch' when it came to his minders._

"No more so than you it seems." Standing Patrick began to make his way towards the sole exit of the small apartment. Pausing at the door he offered the men assigned to him a large smile, broad and hopeful. "C'mon now lads … in seven days we're going to be getting our lives back. Just think, we can finally get into a nice home, and make pretty."

Over the past eight years Patrick had been under full surveillance and with good reason. At first he had been hunted like a fox through the undergrowth, with a new city to his name on a weekly basis. In the most extreme cases he had been bounced from one safe house to another night after night. Back then Patrick had been on the right side of fifty and had yet to see how ruthlessly determined his opponent could be. The Purple Dragons had been a formidable enemy, happy to blow up entire buildings if it meant acquiring their target. And one time, they had been a little too close. Peering through the yellow curtain the man's eyes studied the darkening sky, shades of purples blended into the greying blue with ease. With the sun dipping down below the depressing high rises that made up his view the man's mind turned to his past few years. Beyond the calm exterior and the fading nerves resided raw fear. The man yearned to get his life back, and he had clung to the vague notion that this could be gained. But Patrick had not been raised by fools, nor had he raised any. Assuming life was being kind to his kin he had a child out there somewhere that he could find one day. His eyes narrowed as he watched the sun slide down beneath the buildings, the blanket of night spreading out and over the statuesque, soon to be sleeping Chicago.

"The car is here sir."

Turning from the window Patrick smiled once again, "Aye, so it seems." Activity from the Purple Dragon's had tailed off as he had neared his mid fifties until they had finally stopped all attacks months ago. Instead of being comforted by the halt in activity it meant only one thing in this Patrick's mind. In order for his evidence to be admissible he had to be within New York state lines, once he landed on native soil he was not only back in the lion's den but he was more than likely to have every lowlife New York had to offer actively seeking him out. In the movies he had watched growing up Patrick could recall how the life of a man in his position was supposed to play out. The enemy would swoop down on the safe house, and some police man, usually a Sylvester Stallone clone, would single-handedly save the day with the guns all a blazing. The reality was painfully different, there were times it was tedious when in moments of fancy he could convince himself he was living a normal life as a mere store owner, and then on the other hand there were other times it was terrifying. His old bones hoped it would be the former, though in his heart he had a feeling the next seven days were going to be dangerously eventful.

Using Seamus to support his weight the old man limped slowly towards the door, on either side stood Rory and Todd, two of his luckiest minders, and to his rear stood Chas and Mark. With a small nod of his head the door to the room was opened, and the men fell into an easy formation, "This is it lads! We're goin' home!" Chuckling nervously he caused the men to wait as a light tapping echoed through the room.

Drawing his gun Mark moved towards the hanging yellow curtain, his body ready for almost anything. Pulling the material away from the rotten wooden frame the middle aged man let out a long laugh. Perched on the other side of the stained, streaked glass sat a crow, in an attempt to escape the cold the poor animal had decided to try and break into the small apartment. Ripples of relief ran through the room, each minder was edgy tonight, and with good reason. It was only Patrick, with his tightening grip on the top of Seamus, who opted out of joining in the mirth; what had it been his old Da had said to him in his youth? Closing his eyes he blocked out the wise words, his throat swallowing the lump that formed. _Aye, that had been it, when a bird comes a tappin' at yuir window Pat they'll be a death in the house afore the year is out._

"Sir?" Rory waited patiently in the darkened hallway for his charge, "Are you ready to move?"

Patrick nodded his head slowly, "Aye Lad, that I am."

"Alright," Rory felt a fool to have to run through this again, but it was procedure when changing safe houses. "In a minute we are going to start moving. Should we so instruct you to take cover it is requested that you drop to your knees and lay face down on the floor, with your hands over your head. This will be signalled by the call "Down." Upon going 'down' we shall circle you Patrick and allow you to rise once we have secured the area to the best of our abilities. Should the worst happen keep a cool head and trust in our judgement and you shall make it to the court on time." Smiling at the older man he gave a small nod to his colleagues, and the cogs that would return Patrick Kilmour to New York were set in motion.

_tbc ..._

**o **Special thanks to _**Sassy**_ for beta reading this MONTHS ago, you are a **_STAR_**! Though I never did sort out that foreshadowing malarky ... **o**


	2. Chapter 2

_Days until Trial_ –_ **7  
**__Current Status of Witness_ –_ **Alive, in transit  
**__Location – New York City_

"Heads up Don!" Ducking beneath the swinging arm the purple clad turtle gave a small nod to his youngest brother. Sweeping his bo down in a smooth arc he smiled slightly when the sleek hard wood connected with the knees of the Foot soldier. Rising up he glanced across the small battlefield he and his brothers had initiated.

To his right Raphael and Casey were working together as a very odd, slightly unhinged, tag-team. As had become the custom with the two hot heads one would pound whilst the other would cut off any and all attempts at exit. When one poor man finally folded into the ground they would separate out before inexplicably coming back together to help the other out once again. Watching Casey launch into a devastating drop kick his attention had to be drawn once again to the battle field by the ever moving, ducking and weaving Michelangelo.

Blocking the swinging scythes with his staff, the weakest turtle reluctantly gave on his ground as a second soldier joined the first to add weight to the blocking weapon that hovered just above his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, Don finally relented, bending at the legs to roll and flip the two men over his head and onto the floor. Fearing a beating from the remaining soldiers, his worst dreams were averted by the 'tag-team of doom' the rich orange light that flooded the night sky glinting off the sides of the flying sai that sliced through the air above his face to drive off one such threat. There was Raphael. The sound of grit being crushed under foot crept up on his right side, along with the imposing shadow that belonged to Casey Jones. Picking up his weapon he offered one end of the stick to the turtle.

"Don … this aint no time to be nappin'." Casey's good natured, slightly unhinged smile rained down at him, before his eyes jerked up, the friendly look vanishing to be replaced by a hard, heartless ruthlessness. Swinging his hockey stick round in a sharp, violent arc, Donny winced as the sound of cracking ribs reverberated through the air.

"Case! Yo Case!" Casey's stress levels were going through the roof these days, as such his attack on the few Foot that were flooding intermittently through the streets were of a more violent, physical nature. Everyone, even Raph, had noted that. "Back it up!"

Clambering to his feet it was time to take account for all that were present. Donny couldn't help it, he was by his very nature inquisitive about so many things, just because he was on a battlefield didn't change that. Letting out a long sigh he made a mental note, Casey stood inches from Don's right, his partner in crime lurking somewhere to the middle turtles rear. Mikey was picking himself up off the floor a proud smile on his face as he held up the chocolate brown leather tube he had been charged with protecting. To Donny's relief it was unscathed which meant that the telescope inside would still be in one piece. That just left Leo, who after a moment of frantic scanning emerged from the tree line.

"All gone." He announced simply, sliding his swords away. "So, Don, how do we do this?"

Science was Don's thing, it always had been and probably always would be. As a consequence he was given the opportunity to take point. As Donny had suspected his telescope was indeed in one piece, which meant that the small ruckus they had endured was worth it. Unscrewing one end of the tripod he had defended he extended the contraptions skeletal frame to plant each black leg into the soft earth Hyde Park had to offer. Taking out the smooth mahogany casing he lovingly placed the treasure of his collection on top of the tripod. With the sort of attention to detail only scientists could possibly tolerate he spent the next twenty minutes aligning it perfectly with the stars. Checking through the spot the look of dismay that creased up his features was evident for all to see. It wasn't quite right.

"This had betta be worth it …" Raph hissed to Casey quietly. His stoic expression complimented by the folded arms and hunched shoulders.

Adding the finishing touches to the scene took a great deal of concentration. Concentration that always made his brothers giggle as the tip of his tongue peaked out through the corner of his mouth, and his right eye squinted. Finally satisfied with his calculations he stepped back. From the sky rays of orange-gold light flooded the park, casting the usually dark shadows with a rich hue that illuminated all. Having had his fill of studying the moon with its veil of shimmering bronze he stepped aside to let his brothers have a look at one of nature's most beautiful natural phenomenon.

"Wow, thad is sweet! Whad issit?" Pulled out of the way by Raphael he turned to Donny with his head tilted skywards and lovingly wistful stare. Even though the amber-gold globe was tiny without the assistance of the lens it was still stunning to behold.

With a small smile on his face Donny replied happily, "It's a lunar eclipse Mikey"

_**x-x-x-x**_

It had been the pilot to notice the unusual phenomenon; traversing over the skyline of New York he had pointed it out to the co-pliot who in turn notified Todd.

"Mr Kilmour," anxious to share the beauty they had stumbled across Todd broke from his place in the private jet to pull up the sleek plastic shutter. Squatting down behind his charge he pointed it out to him in the sky, the large full moon more than capable of reflecting the power of the sun in all of its glory as it made its way across the sleeping satellite. "We're not entirely sure what it is, but isn't it something."

Shielding his eyes Patrick studied the sky, but instead of being filled with awe the paling of his tanned skin was lost in the reflective glare. "Aye that it is." Reaching out one large hand he pulled the small shutter down firmly, saying nothing more on the matter. Letting out a small snort he pressed his lips into a thin, firm line, his hands idly tapping Seamus from one palm to the other. _It's just superstition Pat _he reminded himself firmly, closing his eyes to silently chastise his Irish heritage.

_**x-x-x-x**_

April wasn't sure if she was comforted by the protectiveness of her friends, or insulted that they didn't feel she was capable of defending herself in battle. But either way following a short argument she had found herself left behind at her store with nothing but the evening news, and a bowl of pretzels for company. Settling down onto her settee she flicked on the news in time for the entertainment section, okay, so maybe there were some things more important than defending the innocent, such as Colin Farrell's latest conquest.

Leaning forwards, April dug her hand into the Perspex bowl of salty goodness whilst the newsreader droned on. Just as her boredom was beginning to peak once again the joy that was Robert Steiner cut back to the main story for the night. And just like that, April's interest in local affairs was stimulated once again;

'The fate of one of the biggest street gangs that roam New York is in the balance this week due to the trial **_McCormack & Norman vs. The State of New York_** which shall be taking part in the High Court next Monday. For almost a decade the Purple Dragons have been an untouchable force that has terrorised the innocent for too long. With the assistance of the Attorney General, the FBI have been preparing and moving the relevant evidence to the scene in preparation for the case. Despite the fact that the number of new Dragons has been dropping over the past five years authorities are still anxious about intimidation or foul play in regards to those taking part in the trial. Be it be the handful of brave people with the spirit and courage to stand up to the organised crime that pollutes this once great city, or the law enforcers assigned to the case.

Though we have not had any confirmation from the relevant authorities our reporters can exclusively reveal that in order for the case to successfully go to trial that all relevant evidence and witnesses must be in the state of New York by the end of this week. Naturally we do not expect this message to reach those brave souls with hearts of gold, but if you should be out there watching this, we here at the Channel 3 office would like to thank you on behalf of the people of New York. Our hopes and dreams are with you. This is Robert Steiner for Channel 3 news saying goodnight and God bless."

"Oh my …" leaning over to the 1930's telephone situated on her night stand she instinctively dialled the men she had been arguing with hours earlier.

_**x-x-x-x**_

Quite by chance Splinter gained insight into the situation. And as he listened to what was said he slowly began to understand the low number of Foot and thugs his sons were coming across as of late. "Interesting." He murmured quietly, he would have to get a newspaper when the opportunity presented itself in order to follow this in more detail now.

In fact it turned out that it was becoming the talking point for nearly every radio phone in across the city of New York. Caller after caller rang in to voice their opinion on the report Robert Steiner had made on the news earlier, some commending the message put across by Steiner, others disgusted by the arrogance of a man who could have put countless lives in danger. Either way Splinter had decided to change his son's training program, there would undoubtedly be witnesses for this case, and they would need as much assistance as they could garner.

_**x-x-x-x**_

During his time in school Oroku Saki had been assured he would never amount to much. It had been this sort of negativity that had caused him to drop out and turn to a life of crime. How surprised would his teachers be now? The ruthlessness that had garnered the attention of his first sensei had only grown and twisted over the years until he had earned his rightful place at the top of the tree, and years of hard work would not be squandered because of one insignificant court case.

Tonight the man now more commonly known as The Shredder watched the news report with keen eyes. In the panelled boardroom all of his best men sat gathered. To the right of the black leather seat he sat in was his favoured Son. At a sickeningly tall 7ft2inches Hun had been a wonderful find in the cold streets of New York, a child who with careful guidance had become cold and sadistic. Qualities that Saki looked for in all of his top men. Leaning back in his chair, the tall, lean muscled man watched the extended screen intently, his cold brown eyes observing the report over the tip of his stippled fingers;

"… _Naturally we do not expect this message to reach those brave souls with hearts of gold, but if you should be out there watching this, we here at the Channel 3 office would like to thank you on behalf of the people of New York…"_

"Do you hear that?" the man growled over the end of the report, his eyes flickering from the only source of light in the darkened room, "The State of New York thinks our time has come." Uncrossing one leg Saki used the heel of his right foot to pull his chair closer to the dark wood table. Lowering his hands he relaxed his fingers from the hard point they had formed to place them in a cup atop the worn leather. Rising slowly to his feet the men in the room knew better than to mistake his cold, calculating movements as a stall for time. "I think the State of New York needs to understand that no one, and I mean _no one_, is beyond the reach of the Foot." Looking to his Son the screen at the end of the boardroom flicked off, plunging the room into an uncomfortable grey-black shade. Not one of the men in the room dared to breathe whilst Saki made eye contact with each with a withering glare. "This case is not going to make it to court, which means that each and everyone of you has seven days to destroy as much evidence as possible." The man smiled coldly, "Organic and otherwise. Doing so may win favour with your Father." Once again the man paused, his gaze taking in each and every one of the men before him. "You do want to win that favour don't you?"

Saki didn't need to hear a response; all those that sat at his table had earned his favour at some point. Earning a little more could never be a bad thing. Lifting up one hand, the man bid goodbye to his underlings with a dismissive flick of the wrist, the muted scraping of metal on wood the only sound to fill the air as they crept out one by one. When there was no one left but Hun Shredder turned his face to the larger man.

"Hun," his voice dropped in volume, it was the closest the man could come to expressing any sort of emotion. "There is a man who can destroy a large part of our organisation. Failure to remove him will displease me greatly. I am making it your personal duty to see that Patrick Kilmour never makes that stand."

Hun returned his Father's cold sneer "Not a problem, I have just the guy for the job."

"And who would that be?"

"An old friend boss, just a real old friend."

_tbc ..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Days until Trial – **7**_

_Current Status of Witness – **Alive, in transit**_

_Location – Classified, within New York State_

"A family meeting? At nine! C'mon!" Kicking a stray tin can Mikey pouted at his older brother. For the past hour and a half the five of them had been chilling out under the eclipse, munching pizza and sipping soda. And now, right now, just when they had finally talked Leo round to the idea of kicking back Splinter was calling a meeting at April's. And the general consensus was that it sucked major ass. Lovingly packing away his telescope bought them another five minutes in the fresh air and misplaced sunshine, but in the end even Donny had to concede defeat. Pulling his telescope onto his shoulders he looked up at the moon one last time before letting out a long sigh, and reluctantly following after his already moving brothers. The night was peaceful now that the Foot had gone on the retreat once again. With their numbers dwindling and their activity negligible there was a sense that something 'big' was coming, Slowly speculation on what that might be came into the conversation as they headed in.

"Rec'on it's gotta be a jewel or so'ethin'."

"Raph, why would Shredder want jewellery? It's got to be something more than that." Leo reasoned.

"Oh, I dunno, a nice sapphire might really bring out the red in his eyes!" Mikey pointed out, opting to skip as well as run, walk and generally act up. "Ya know a _really_ big one. Cud put it atop of his helmet, like a lantern or sumthin'!"

"Mikey?" his three brothers spoke in near unison.

"Yea?" Stopping in his latest series of hopping, the youngest turned around on one foot to stare expectantly at his siblings.

"C'mere …" raising one hand up Raph beckoned his brother to come over.

"Nu-uh!" Shaking his head, Mikey stayed put, the tip of his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. "I know whad that means …"

"Raphael is not going to hit you up the back of the head for living up to genetic expectations," Turning from one brother to the other Donny waited for a response in the affirmative "are you?."

Uncertainly Mikey slowly shuffled forwards, his hands hanging low around his middle whilst he waited. This would be new … Raph was going to actually not slap him up the back of the head for saying something stupid. Eyeing his brother suspiciously he came within striking distance, his face openly showing all signs of complete mistrust.

"C'mere." Raph repeated beckoning his brother to come closer.

"Nu-uh! Here's good!" Stamping his foot Mikey repeated the gesture, "Right here!"

Sighing his other brothers moved onwards leaving Mikey standing behind with Raph and a lingering Casey.

"We're going to be late!" Leo called back after another two minutes were wasted on the awkward standoff. Pausing at the bend in the path he watched on with Donny, who in turn was nervously fiddling with the strap of his telescope case. Sure, he knew he couldn't get it out again … but still, his eyes cast wistfully back towards the skyline, squinting slightly to capture the golden light as it passed over the moon.

"Shuddup!" Raph finally growled, Mikey was right, anticipation was way better than the hit. Walking past him he jogged to catch up his other brothers, Casey slapping Mikey up the back of the head in Raphael's place.

Snickers greeted Mikey's outraged "Hey! No fair!" but at least they were moving again. And Mikey was being quiet. Five shaded figures slipped out of the leafy safety the park afforded them and into the cold, hostile lanes that made up New York City. Whilst they moved, what little grit the floor had to offer crunched under foot, the minor sound emphasised all the more by the lack of residual activity that should have awaited them. But, once again, as there had been many other nights, there was no lingering ambush, no drive by from an armoured car, no taunting dragons. Things were getting so slow that there was almost a desire to hunt down, and initiate one of the other gangs of New York. And just as Raph was about to suggest this to Casey Mikey piped up again …

"Wanna know whad I think would look really hot on ol'Tin-Skin? A nice set of pearl earrings, or maybe a set of emerald chokers. Or … or …" stopping dead he brought up one hand with a triumphant smile. "Black silk! Sum nice sexy black lingerie, cos lets face it that metal has gotta chafe! An' can ya just imagine his dry cleaning bill, if he moved into the blacks then there would be no more nasty blood stains ta worry about!"

"**_MICHELANGELO!"_** full named by all of his brothers. Mikey's triumphant smile faded somewhat. Looking at the horrified expressions his family had to offer him he paused, sucking in his cheeks he shifted his weight slightly. "Whad?"

Raph and Casey didn't even give him the benefit of trying to weasel his way out of it. "Wha'! Crossdressin' Shredders aint so'ethin' I want t'be dreamin' o't'night?" As his little brother took off up the street with a whoop of joy Raph, Casey and after a moment's hesitation, Donny took up pursuit.

Shaking his head in sheer disbelief, Leo could only mutter "Thank God it's a slow night …" before following his brother's lead and taking up the chase.

_**x-x-x-x**_

So far, so good. The small jet had been parked in the loading bay of the La Guardia airport for the past two hours, and no suspicion had been raised. Taking sanctuary in the small toilet Patrick adjusted the satin black tie for the third time. In order to maintain the illusion of being an _important_ business man he had been instructed to change his clothing. So now his well worn forest green turtleneck sweater lay on top of the small suitcase he had brought onto the craft in Chicago. A flawless white shirt with neatly ironed in creases covered his wide frame, the full sleeves concealing the Templar vest that stretched over his back and limbs. Hanging on the back of the folding door was the much lauded prize of his new wardrobe – a black dinner suit jacket, and as long as it was accompanied by the sunglasses and wig there was no reason why he couldn't pass for one of his minders. Or at least that was the plan, this flight contained the 'decoy' whilst the 'witness' was smuggled in via transit.

Apparently there had been frantic phone calls and a change of plans during the landing. Naturally Patrick had been changing at the time, so he was not supposed to be aware of the change in plans. The rumour that floated through the cabin made it sound like the Dragons were already back to their old tricks.

_**x-x-x-x**_

The light of the TV screen cut to black as the hastily recorded transmission ended for the second time. The static from the switched on television flooded the room whilst the small troop shared expectant glances, all of which inevitably returned to Donny.

"Well, that would explain a lot." Donny muttered, his eyes flickering away from the four sets of eyes that kept returning to him. "I suppose this is the part where I dig something up?"

"Give the man a prize …" Raph muttered quietly, shifting his weight around on his spot on the floor. "So yo'want us doin' what?"

"To ensure that this case makes its trial date Raphael" Splinter his request sound as normal and as natural as sending one of his sons out to get some dinner.

Nudging Raph in his side Casey leant over to whisper in his ear, "P'haps he'd like us t'part th'seas too!" Snickering Raph nodded his head in agreement, talk about asking for the impossible.

"How?" Mikey piped up, ignoring the quiet chuckling that came from the sofa behind him. He knew he probably sounded really stupid right now, but that was a pretty tall order, even for their Father.

"Once Donatello has pinpointed the most valuable pieces of evidence it is going to become our responsibility to see that it remains intact." Taking the time to look at each one of his children Splinter took special care to make eye contact with Raphael, satisfied that his silence would remain he continued his sweep of the room.

"How?"

"By watching over it, and if the situation arises it may need to be removed for safe-keeping."

"So we guna getta play 007?"

"I suppose that is one way to look at it Michelangelo."

"Sweet!"

_**x-x-x-x**_

Alice Winchester walked the same route home everyday. She assumed she knew everything there was to know about her neighbour, for instance his cousin was recently married to a lovely young woman from Michigan. Standing at the tip of the curb, she glanced up the street, and then down before crossing, her eyes skimming over the non-descript blue SUV twice. Both times her eyes glimpsed the behemoth at the wheel of the vehicle, with his long blonde hair, and cold narrow eyes. Both times she failed to notice the intensity with which he in turn was watching her. Satisfied that the road in the small community estate was clear Alice stepped out into the road, her cold hands grasping the black straps of her bag to stop if from slipping from her shoulder.

In the vehicle the large man gave a small nod, with which the black clad man whom he sat with turned the key in the ignition. Shifting the car into third gear the car lurched from the curb to slowly creep into the street and towards the unsuspecting woman. Winding down one window the large man in the passenger seat slid one arm out, to gently lay his large hand down onto the roof of the cab. "Seatbelt …" he snarled to his companion, his narrowed brown eyes never leaving Alice's delicate frame. Hearing the click of metal biting into metal he gave a small nod, and simple, detached instruction. "Drive."

And with a horrific crash, Alice Winchester, main prosecutor for the trial McCormack & Norman, was gone. One of first of the many integral links in the chain to come crashing down.

In the car, Hun merely smiled, "One down," he informed the man on the other end of the line. "Two to go."

In his office the smile on the face of Oroku Saki was almost as cold as the frostbite that was descending down over the city.


	4. Chapter 4

_Days until Trial – **6**_

_Current Status of Witness – **Alive**_

_Location – Classified, within State lines._

"The hit and run of Alice Winchester last night shocked the sleepy residential community within which she has lived for the past ten years. Ms Winchester's untimely demise, coupled with the fact that she is the main prosecutor for the McCormack court case, has raised speculation that local criminal gang, the Purple Dragons, are raising their ugly heads once again. As a consequence all other lawyers and possible jury members are being relocated, in an attempt to stop intimidation as well as protect their own personal safety.

This is Robert Steiner for Channel Three News saying Good morning and God bless."

With a soft ooom the television in April's store returned to a mooted black. Cradling a mug of coffee she carefully picked her way over the wooden floorboards and towards the small kitchen in the rear of the building. With the blinds down, and the lights still switched off the warm shadows that cloaked her kitchen were comforting. Especially considering what she had just seen on the Early-Bird News. Pouring out a bowl of cereal, she filled the small glass jug with ice cold milk before taking breakfast, complete with a glass of orange juice upstairs. Having lived in the store all of her life April avoided the loose floorboards with ease; her destination marked out by the slit of light that came from the front bedroom. Smiling fondly she paused in the door way to look at the hunched form that now lay slumped over the computer desk. Biting on her lip, she shook her head slightly at the rounded green shoulders, and dangling purple material that draped down over the bent forearm. Creeping into the room April placed the tray down at the end of the bed, before reaching down to retrieve the thick blanket she had brought through late last night for the young boy. Unfolding it she slipped the material over his shoulders before squatting down at his side.

"Don …" one hand gently ran over the top of his forehead, "Hey Donny …" she whispered quietly, her eyes shining in part to the soft spot she held for the turtle, as well as the light that came from the computer screen.

"Huh?" Moving slowly, Donny lifted his head up to stare at April, his partially opened jaw signalling his confusion. Rubbing one half open eye with the heel of his hand he continued to stare at his host.

Her smile widened, "It's after seven. And I thought I told you to go to bed." Standing up she pushed him lightly on the shoulder, but then what had she expected? She couldn't really be surprised to see Donatello still in front of the screen, because when Donny got onto something he was like a dog with a bone. She still couldn't get over the fact that he had done a little jig at two in the morning when he had finally found something useful. "Come on, I've got some breakfast here."

"April?"

"You spent the night at the store." She gently reminded him, her pale arms remaining around his shoulders whilst she took him to the bed, and his waiting breakfast.

"Oh yea." Stifling a yawn in the crook of one arm he looked back towards the computer, "I should finish that up."

"After breakfast." Passing him the tray she returned to the computer screen to check his findings. "And a nap." She added watching his reflection in the glare of the screen. Tucking him into bed April went for the telephone, making it by the third ring.

"I caught it on the Early-Bird News." She told Splinter, her eyes focused intently on the act of wrapping the phone wire around her index finger. "Don's got a bunch of stuff on the computer to print off … Sure, I can do that … Give him an hour Splinter, he was up all night. … Yes, I did tell him to go to bed … I didn't think he would ignore me did I? It was 2am … Well, I know for next time! … Yes, okay. … 9.30 is fine. … Bye."

Placing the phone back down into the cradle she let out a long sigh. _Man …_

Patrick was taking each day as it came, so far it had been twenty four hours and there had been no undue concern. Or at least that was the illusion that Rory, Todd, Chas and Mark were trying to project to the old man. But even as he unpacked his small suitcase he couldn't help but feel like he was being lied to.

He only had to make it through another six days, which with all that he had seen so far was an incredibly unlikely scenario. Things were going on in the outside world that he was not to know about. And when you had been on the run for as long as he had that never meant a happy ending. Pushing all negative thoughts to the back of his mind Patrick continued to unpack his bag …

Dominic West wasn't the sort of man to break the law. He had been raised as a good little Catholic boy, he had gone to a prestigious law school, had worked hard on every single test and exam he had ever done, and yet now he was throwing it all away. It turned out that the cost of a man's life was to supersede it with another's.

The choice of venue was suitably atmospheric; the man was to meet with the head of the Purple Dragons at the docks. With a sea fret whipping up and hovering over the water the gentle breeze carried it in over the equally miserable landscape to swallow all that inhabited the area. Pale, green eyes flickered to the illuminated clock behind his steering wheel; his 'visitors' were late. Reaching for the car door he opened it, the eerie click echoing into the smothering blanket that was engulfing his car. _You could die here, and no one would ever know._ The thought chilled his spine. Retrieving the black leather briefcase he was using to carry the coerced documents, Dominic climbed out of his vehicle. Shutting the door behind him, he squinted into the murky distance. With the billowing swirling fret he couldn't be sure, but he thought he had seen some movement.

"I-is anyone there?" trying to sound authoritive and in control when you are terrified was one task too many for the man. Once again his eyes squinted at the flickering movement amongst the mist.

Hugging the briefcase to his front, the man backed away from the phantoms in the mist, his nerves comforted by the reassuring cold steel his Cadillac could provide at his rear. _Keep_ _them in sight. Just keep them in sight Dom._ So intent was he on maintaining contact on what he could only assume were his visitors he didn't know he was surrounded until the cold comfort of his Cadillac was replaced by the warm worn mass that constituted Hun's impressive frame.

"Why yes, yes there is Mr West." The blond haired man snarled, his brown soulless eyes meeting the fearful gaze of his companion and not flinching. The raw fear he encountered made his smug sneer all the darker.

With a final shuddering mechanical whirr the printer spat out the last in a long line of innocuous documents. Collecting them up April listened to the sound of gentle snores coming from the room behind her, before creeping downstairs to join her early houseguests.

"Ho- how did you do that!"

"You have something the Boss wants." Dismissing the question Hun got to the point, with little finesse.

Nodding Dominic held the briefcase out to the man, his shaking made all the more obvious now that he no where to hide. "You see that boys? Seems Mr West is a little scared!" Chuckling darkly, he moved silently around the man, each step surprisingly soft for a man of his bulk and size. The uneasy silence that descended over the small group was punctured by the sound of plastic thudding down onto metal. Jerking round sharply Dominic was powerless to watch the man clad in black whilst he set up the laptop computer. Satisfied with his handy work, the Foot Soldier stepped to one side, allowing Hun to take his place before the quietly hissing machine. The thud was followed by the gentle metallic clicking of his suitcase being opened.

"Well … you have what you want, so I'll … I'll be leaving you gentlemen to it." Dominic muttered quietly, turning on the spot and choosing to walk away. Disappearing into the mist his exit was interrupted by the arrival of more phantoms and ghosts. The black clad arms and legs wrapped around the man, pulling and tugging at his clothes and limbs, when he attempted to strike away one such man his attack was stopped by another. "What are you people?" he whispered, accepting his fate and allowing his terrified body to be dragged back to the behemoth that appeared to be in charge.

The alarm refused to stop beeping. Burying his head under the pillow did nothing to stop the incessant ringing, and so with much reluctance Donny got up. Dragging the blanket off the bed with him he wandered over to the computer, his nights work still present on the screen.

_Breakfast is behind you, documents are printed off and downstairs. EAT SOMETHING! We are all in the living room. April_

Pulling the small yellow post-it off the screen Donny sat down in front of the shining square. His eyes checked on his still waiting breakfast, it had started out its life as cold, had waited two hours anyway, and could wait a little longer. Yawning loudly, Don cracked his knuckles, and started to work on covering his tracks.

Getting a remote signal down on the docks was harder than Hun had first thought. But with a little perseverance, and a lot of anger he had succeeded in getting the connection he needed. With Dominic at his side document after document on the Witness Protection Program, and its personnel came springing up.

"This isn't what the Boss wants." Hun growled.

"The man I spoke to wasn't very specific … "Dominic could feel his words babble, "I was told to bring eve – everything."

The keyboard was spun round to face the man, "Get me everything on the McCormack trial." Wincing at the marks made on his car bonnet, Dominic nodded.

"The trial names go to the recycle bin. The recycle bin goes to the electromagnet." It was a stupid little song, but scrambling and destroying public property tugged on his conscience. Window after window degenerated into black and white squares before going blank with a satisfying little pop. Whistling quietly to himself, Don moved onto the list of safe houses.

"It's not there."

Hun's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean it's not there?"

"There … there seems to be some sort of interference." Hitting the right button on the mouse Dominic showed Hun pulled up a list of trial dates. Instead of being full of names and dates a small box merely appeared stating ominously, _''Archive Empty. 57 files deleted' _ "I … I don't know what is going on ..."

"Get me the safe house addresses right now."

Nodding, fear drove Dominic to many simple errors. Upon his successful third attempt the small sigh of relief he was going to exhibit became one of horror. "Something is eating the system!" he squealed, his eyes bearing witness to the destruction of carefully archived, apparently untouchable data.

"Well stop it!"

"This isn't my area of expertise …" Dominic whimpered in response, the small cursor highlighting and pasting the partially destroyed document into the Notepad on the laptop. In the reflection of the windshield he saw Hun's face contort with rage, and once again he made minor errors. Reaching into his back pocket he produced another cell phone, flicking it open, the larger man hit the speed dial, before holding the phone to the man's ear.

"You had best get me something Mr West." The same cold voice that had arranged the meeting demanded his tone calculating and cruel.

"And done!" Leaning over April's keyboard Donny reluctantly hit the delete button. Letting out a long sigh he stared at the blank white windows that glared back at him.

"How is it going?" Leo hung in the doorway, they had been waiting for about half an hour for Donny to get his act together and come downstairs. Finally Leo had decided to come and get him.

"I've just finished up." Was the succinct reply. Turning around in the chair Donny got up, "What are we doing now?"

"Family meeting." Turning from the doorway Leo paused as Donny over took him. "Don?" When his brother looked back, he was greeted with a good natured smile and a nod back to the bedroom. "Breakfast."

"No … no … no …" Even the soft whispering beneath his breath and frantic shaking of the connection wire couldn't bring back the files. _It's gone_. Dominic could feel the emotion of the desperate situation he was in come up to swallow him. Blinking he wiped away the tears that spilt from his eyes.

"What is the problem Mr West?"

Dominic wasn't sure how a man who was clearly not present could possibly leave such a feeling of dread in his stomach. "It's … it's not here." He whispered into the small microphone. Striking the back key Dominic followed the links on the site, only to be confronted with the horrible truth for the third time.

"Not there?" the laughter that echoed down the phone line was both eerie and pitiless. "How does one manage to lose access to confidential, encrypted files Dominic?"

"I … I don't know. I swear to you it was all here this morning. It's just gone, it is like a virus has come through and eaten everything. Please, you have got to believe me … I understood your message, got it loud and clear last night when you called. I … I have no desire …" the telephone moved away from his face and back to the ear of his large visitor.

"Turtles." Sitting in his office Saki stared at the far white wall, the large room reflecting the morning light with clinical effect. The fingernails of his right hand ran rhythmically off the top of the hard wood desk whilst he thought. "Dispose of Mr West. And this time try to find a manner that is not going to attract the attention of the New York press. Let's try to stay one step a head of the pack this time shall we Son?"

Moving his right hand from the table Saki reached over to the speaker phone on his desk and pressed the disconnect button. He could trust his Son to be creative in his work, and hopefully he could salvage something from this little enterprise. For Hun's wellbeing, he sincerely hoped the man could.

"Okay … that pile is all the personnel." Donny pointed to the pile that Mikey had picked up from the table, "That one is a list of all the safe houses in New York State, along with the occupants that are supposed to be residing there. I'll handle that one, there is some cross referencing that still needs to be done. Raph, can you take the list of addresses for houses in New York City and figure out where they all are?" Donny didn't wait to be told yes or no. Raph wasn't that great at research anyway, "And that one is all the people connected to the trial, along with the list of all evidence and where it is being held." He shoved that one Leo's way.

"How come we gotta do this _right_ now? Bond _never_ does anythin' like this …" Mikey pouted.

"Because I don't know how far a head of the Foot we actually are." Donatello pointed out.

"But ya scrambled the files …"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that Shredder can't get the information some other way, additionally I don't know if I beat him to the punch. He's had years to prepare for this ..." From across the room Leo cleared his throat, effectively cutting off the end of Don's tirade, _We've had 36 hours. Not to mention_ _we're pretty much running blind_

The telephone in Saki's office rang several times before being diverted to the answer machine. After the beep, Hun voices crept through the crackling microphone;

"Good news Boss, turns out that kid did pull up something useful. Got the name and address of ol' Paddy's handling officer right here. Me and the boys are gonna go upstate and get the details from the horses mouth, so to speak." A dry chuckle echoed down the line. "Might wanna call the cops down to the docks at Saki Fishing – turns out a terrible accidents gone and happened to the night watchman."

And with that the line, just like Dominic West, went dead.


End file.
